A quick update to see some of the things I’m working on this semester. Read on to see the rest of the professional photography I had shot yesterday!

Two-thousand and five. It?s a new year, and with it, comes a new voicemail message (call, you won?t be disappointed), a new room in a new place, and now, miracle of miracles, a new web site posting. I know what you?re thinking … Sam, this web site was a chronicle of your exciting and outrageous gad abouts through Europe, what in the hell are you going to write about now that you?re in Syracuse, NY! Well, I?m damn glad you asked.

Well, first, I would like to you direct your attention to the structural wonder in my neighbor?s front yard.

When life gives you lemons, you make lemonade. And apparently when life deals you sub-zero temperatures and torrential snow storms, you go outside with your buckets of water and mittens and make a sophisticated snowstructure. I believe the people next door are fifth-year industrial design students and, therefore, know what they?re doing. So that was at least one thing worth reporting. Then there is always the odd and end.

Oh, this takes me back. Just kidding. I don?t actually remember my briss, however I am quite familiar with the consequences!

Anyway, that should just about bring you up to speed. I recently sent out my sexy 2004 thank you notes (birthday and Chanukah) printed on hot pink paper with retro Catch Me if You Can Trade Gothic type. Those should go over pretty well.

Winter break was a dense collage of errands, acclimations, vacations and work. I came home from London on December 16 and left the next morning with my brother, Jack, on a one-way flight to Syracuse to help my other brother, Mike, drive the car home. That mini-trip involved a wonderful and ceremonious dinner at Pastabilities (with my closest SU friends), a 10PM, midnight madness, lease signing, and an all-night drive back to Highland Park in which we found ourselves stuck in an Indiana blizzard around 7AM (which we finally made it through to Chicago at 11AM, terrific!).

Shortly after that our family went on a kick-ass trip to Florida (Long Boat Key, Sarasota) and I worked for the next two weeks and my old stomping ground, Crate and Barrel (you don?t write the ?&? when you don?t use the logo, FYI). I saw old friends on the weekend and, with a few exceptions, managed to oversee the rehabilitation of the endlessly growing collection of computers at the Becker household. It was a little sad to leave (both Chicago and England), but it?s really good to be back and I?m ready to get my hands dirty.

Thanks for your unwavering support and web traffic, it has done wonders for my self-esteem,

Samma Lamma

PS This time around I would seriously like my school friends to post some comments (in addition to the rich and dependable base of family and friends from back home); show them what we?re made of Orangemen.

The fabulous twenty-three on the door to my mews. Now that I am safely on my way back the US of A, I can divulge the secret location of my English whereabouts:

23 Beaumont Mews
Marylebone, London
England W1G 6EN

You can write, but I doubt my subsequent tenant will be forwarding my mail. I am somewhere over Greenland in a Boeing 747 as I pen these thoughts and reflect on my hurried morning, the last night in my cozy flat and my last thirty-six hours in London.

I got up early in the morning on Wednesday and ran in Regent?s park. I visited the design museum (leave it to me to go to the design museum on the last day of my design education), walked around the harbor area near Tower Bridge and capped off the day by sitting in on a parliament session (that?s House of Lords and House of Commons, I?m no slouch)! They spoke about topics as varied as Turkey?s accession into the European Union and the state of Football (that?s Pele not Payton) in England. There were no outbursts, as SNL would have me believe, regarding the national under-appreciation of Teletubbies.

Later that evening Gill, Karen and I went out to a late Mediterranean dinner near St Christopher?s Place. We did this in lieu of the proposed activity by the industrial design contingency: the Circle Line Power Hour. This project would entail getting on London Underground?s Circle Line at the Edgware Road stop and riding the entire twenty-six stop circuit, drinking a minimum of two gulps of beer at each stop. I desperately wanted to go, but dinner intervened and I thought the quality flatmate time was more important and memorable (memorable, as in I would literally be able to remember it).

When we got home Karen went to finish her final paper this term (jeeeeeeeez!) and Gill and I joined Tom in the living room to play a little go fish (which was exponentially more fun because we drank like fish at the same time)! Gill was already packed, so after the game I began the thankless task of organizing the rich tapestry of papers obscuring my floor so that I could eventually put them and all of my other belongings and acquisitions into bags and boxes. I did this at a leisurely pace to stay up with Gill until her cab arrived—she had a 9:30AM flight so her cab was scheduled to arrive at 5:30AM. I made it till five o?clock before she relieved me of my post. In the meantime we had managed to annotate her scrapbook (she borrowed my wit to ensure its interest for posterity), clean the kitchen and squeeze in a little Dr Phil (his simple outlook on life and Texan sensibilities are not wasted on the English). We said our goodbyes and I promised to call her the next day when I arrived in Chi-town … which I almost certainly will.

I got up the next day at 10AM by some stroke of luck. I managed to creep out of my naked bed and tip toe out of my room which was vacant, save for the thick layer of film on the carpet. I looked myself in the mirror and decided that I would run in Regent?s Park for the last time even though I was on five hours of sleep and my cab was due to arrive at 11:45.

I finished in record time and was able to shower and migrate downstairs by 11:20. At this point I realized there were several things I still needed to do before leaving her majesty. I had a sack of change to be converted into bills, I needed to pick up more joint vitamins that I fell in love with at the local Boots and I wanted to get my book on the London Underground graphics system signed by an anonymous tube employee at the Baker Street stop. I really only had time to do one of these things and I think I made the right decision. With twenty minutes to go, and fresh off of my run and shower, I booked it to the station in the rain and grabbed the first attendant I could find.

He thought my request was quite curious, but obliged and then took me upstairs to give me a poster-size map of the underground which I will cherish forever.

… wait, flight announcement, the gentleman next to me just passed the most potent gas I have smelled in months—let me just dry my eyes and try to stay on task …

I made it back with two minutes to spare though my cab was already at my door waiting for me. I loaded in my inordinate amount of bags and we were off. He even took me by KPG (one of our school buildings) so that I could drop off the tripod I borrowed (to take some night pictures on Oxford Street, which, of course, I never got around to) and pick up the NTSC VHS tape my video teacher left me of all of the video projects I did this semester.

I finally made it to the airport with bags of time and slowly made it to the United check-in desk. Once it was my turn, I directed my unruly cart of luggage and slowly advanced towards the counter. The young lady behind the desk saw my crazed expression and the tower of terror in front of me and immediately began frowning. ?Are those all yours?? she asked. And then, ?are you sure you?re traveling by yourself?? she queried. ?Well that?s definitely going to cost extra.?

I told her my name and where I was going and then the most miraculous thing happened.

… ok, second flight announcement, I have just been hit with a second wave of flatulence and I must say it smells uncannily like the in-flight meal, but played in a minor key …

She told me, carefully studying her teleprompter, that it stated at the base of my record that I had an unlimited baggage allowance. She said that someone had flagged my record for this privilege and that they were going to waive any potential fees. I happily gave her my three enormous duffle bags—each, I?m sure, violating a weight or orientation rule—and made my way to the gate.

Once there, I just sat down, rested and thought about this week?s and this term?s madness. At one point, I even got out my laptop and responded to Jason?s treatise on the conflict arising between modern robotics and our global, multicultural workforce. Just before we began to board our flight, I called my father to try and use up my Orange Mobile top-up minutes and also to alert him that the Christmas goose was about to fly the coop and to make sure the necessary preparations were readied for my arrival.

Once again, it?s worth noting that this whole voyage has been one wonderful—even educational at times—ride. I cannot wait to complete the second half of my experience by waiting to see what freaks me out now in America.

Sincerely, Homeward Bound,

Samma Lamma

PS I posted this, obviously, several days after I wrote it. I have been quite busy lately between my connecting flight to Syracuse (to help my brother move and drive home) and the all-nighter-car-ride-through-a-blizzard that carried me back to the windy city. But I am back now and fully enjoying my newfound downtime. I do wish I had just posted this just yesterday, as it was this site?s most-trafficked day ever—eight-hundred hits. Those of you who did not visit the site during that mad rush, please leave lots of thoughtful comments for me to read during this impending month of laidback bliss.

Gill and I at our professor’s Christmas party this past Thursday. The picture was taken by Louisa, a fellow design student, with an artful blend of flash and ambient light. Our professor, whom we were not allowed to call professor, threw an amazing party in his amazing loft space near London Bridge underground station. We all came bearing gifts for the Nerici?s annual ?present trade.? After all of the numbers were called I had received, joy of joys, my teacher’s present: a three-dimensional storybook entitled My Granny’s Purse. I knew then why he had said that he ?hoped a bloke would get it.? The party was perfect, our teacher?s friends and wife were as outrageously Italian and cosmopolitan as we had predicted and the hors d’oeuvres and gin and tonics were unimpeachable.

It is now Sunday night and I am winding down from several days of solid toiling. All of my design work is due Tuesday at noon and then I will have thirty-six hours to see everything I wanted to see in England, tie up my loose ends, pack all of my bags, mail what won?t fit and console all of the British maids that won?t be seeing me for some time now.

It has been an embarrassingly long time since I posted to the site, as Mother Salit and Father Becker have duly pointed out, but I would be wont to mention that my picture galleries are quite up to snuff and my collection of work from my video sketchbook class (located conveniently on the home page) is thorough and up to date. Speaking of which, they showed my final video project, along with all of the others, at the end of the year DIPA party. To my surprise there were at least one-hundred-some people in attendance (including my architecture professor who had to suffer my ranting about my 2000-word Christopher Wren paper) and they all howled in laughter at my piece. Thank god I wasn?t in it (as you all know it was only my voiceover), but there were more than a few ?who?s that guy??s bubbling around the crowd; suffice it to say I?m somewhat of a celebrity around campus.

And now for the important travel-logging. If you have been consulting my Harry Potter Picture Wizard of late, you would know that I have spent the past two weekends in Prague and Amsterdam. I will tackle the former first and the latter last.

Like everybody says, the Czech Republic is beautiful and inexpensive, however both are relative terms. While I absolutely loved Prague, I felt like Ireland was prettier and cheaper in its own way, but perhaps I am already nostalgic.

When we arrived at the airport, I promptly exchanged $100US and received approximately 2300 of the local currency. I, of course, proceeded to frivolously spend my new limitless supply of money on outrageous things like wind blowers, ten-gallon hats and fur-trimmed boots à la Dumb and Dumber. I believe I was handing our airport cab driver eight-hundred to tie my shoes when Gill slapped some sense into me. The first night we ended up at a dance club that we were recommended and we ran into the group of American girls who were seated in front of us on the plane from London.

The hostel we stayed at, called The Boat House, was spectacular. It was on a river of some sort, we had our own private room for three (Gill, Karen and myself) and they served a complimentary breakfast everyday till noon! Not even I could miss that.

Now we arrived in Prague late Thursday night and left early Saturday morning so we really only enjoyed only one day there which we spent at and around the Charles Bridge—a gorgeous stone structure adorned every few meters with ancient, frozen, dark and sooty statues holding, each of them, a shiny gold object. That day we saw the castle on the river, ate sausages (the pictures do not lie), failed to find the Mozart museum and found Gill a ridiculous hat with earflaps. The trip was short and sweet and I think everyone had an amazing time.

Now to describe a much trickier beast, my trip to Amsterdam. Now cover your ears and get the kiddies out of the room, because here we go!

At the last minute Karen decided that she had too much work to go lose two days of her life forever in Amsterdam. I lamented her decision, but respected her work ethic and Gill and I went on our own. We stayed at another excellent hostel (at the Museumplein tram stop) in a private bunk bed room with television and sink. That was the home base for our chicanery the next couple of days. This hostel offered a free breakfast as well and we exploited this to the fullest. Bread, Nutella, jelly, peanut butter, cheese, OJ, coffee, tea and that?s just what I could fit into my pants!

Now I?m not sure what I can really tell you about my recreational activities that weekend. Let?s face it, some I can?t remember and some I can?t say. I can certainly tell you what we didn?t do: The Anne Frank House (because I had already been), The Van Gogh Museum (because we showed up half an hour before close but they still wouldn?t let us in) and avoid being photographed in a popular Dutch newspaper! See exhibit A below:

Now I?m not sure what?s in Gill?s hand there but I hope she put it out before the whole room caught fire. While we were sitting in this lovely coffee shop (I would put them in direct competition with Starbucks) we were approached by this couple who said that they had till the end of the day to file this piece about smoking versus drinking and that they needed our picture (for some strange reason) and that it would be in the next day?s newspaper. Gill and I affably nodded and lo and behold, the next day we found this journal with Gill beneath a section header. She will have that paper to cherish for the rest of her days; a snapshot of her youth.

Now for any more information on my goingsons in Holland, you are going to have to ask me personally. I?m sure what I tell you will be drastically different depending on who you are and your heart condition.

And what would this post be without a tantalizing reveal of my sister?s latest snail mail attack on my character. I received the following piece of blackmail by post this weekend:

Now let me just adjust my glasses here … hmmmm … now it would seem that there are three, no wait four, pigs suckling at my teat. Clever girl! There are so many things at play here, just confronting the image is an emotional journey. First you think, oh my god, Sam is a pig and he?s falling. But then you realize that everything is ok, because he has been carefully fitted with a parachute (one that is monogrammed, no less). You?re also oddly comforted by the small piglets that are going to sedate Sam as he drifts to earth. But then your eyes drift down to the crimson flames below and you think, perhaps we?re going to have pork chops tonight accompanied by pigs in a blanket! A dirty jab Zoe. I shall return from the UK with an elaborate image I?ve penned of struggle, despair and llamas that will keep you up nights.

Now I would like to put up one more post before I leave on a jet plane to do a more proper recap and possibly show you some of my work (yes, I?ve actually been doing something productive here the past four months). But if I don?t get the chance before I leave, then I would just like to say that I have spent an amazingly spectacularly awesome time here and I would like to thank my devoted viewers, all of the people who helped or encouraged me to come here, the DIPA staff and any Brit whose life I have changed in some profound way. I haven?t left and already, I can?t wait to come back!

So long, maybe,

Samma Lamma

PS Gill and Karen had photographs take for them at a London modeling agency:

It?s like Charlie?s Angels, but students studying abroad instead! I guess that would make me Farah Fawcett!

I just returned last night from Paris for the second time this month. Booorrrrrring! The Eiffel tower doesn?t make my blood race anymore and the Louvre quite simply fails to rouse me the way it once did. I had less patience with the snooty shopkeepers and the French milieu proved quite lackluster this time around. I?m going to Prague and Amsterdam the next two upcoming weekends and this trip made me weep for the future.

Oh mon dieu! I imm juste keeedinng! I?ve been in Paris these last four days (11/18 ? 11/21) with my architecture class, having the time of my life. I went with about thirty kids (two of whom I knew, my flatmates: Molly and Tom) from class and we were led around by our eccentric and endlessly entertaining architecture teacher, Norman Reuter. He took us to all of the ?not-for-tourist? exclusive sites all the while gabbing about his mystery surprise event extraordinaire which ended up being a trip to Cirque d?Hiver, an exquisite French circus featuring, of all things, a tennis-pro-turned-freak-show who did astounding tricks with tennis balls and tennis rackets all in a v-neck polo sweater and arrestingly tight tennis shorts—right up my alley … the tennis part … not the shorts part. Incidentally, the architect of the building (see photo below), Jacques Ignace Hittorff, was also the architect of our train station, Gare du Nord.

Additional trip highlights include Versailles (haven?t been there since I was thirteen … Mme Norvich, you know who you are!), Savoye?s le Corbusier house, Musée d?Orsay (which has an impossibly tremendous collection of impressionist art—Van Gogh forever!), Les Invalides (where Napoleon is buried) and sipping coffee in a café that featured a small pen in the corner with farm animals (Zoe, I thought only of you!): a goose, a rabbit and a sizeable goat. We went to and from Paris by way of the Eurostar Chunnel and stayed in the lovely Hotel Victoria for the three requisite nights—I ended up with my flatmate Tom by pure coincidence. The trip was a completely relaxing excursion with ample free time and fascinating sites. It?s hard to get back into the humdrum of my London design career but I?m managing.

To recap the last week or so, I saw the Woman in Black and Sweeney Todd for my theater class. We had a lecturer on intellectual copyright law (in both the EU and in the US) and had a visiting actor from one of the plays we say (I was made an example of for a diaphragm exercise). I saw the Lord Mayor?s Procession (where I was trampled by an errant horse—I swear to God) and went to the very top of St. Paul?s Cathedral with my architecture class. It was completely amazing because all traffic was stopped for the Procession and looking down on the streets was quite similar to when Tom Cruise was running through a vacant Time Square in Vanilla Sky. These next couple of weeks (in addition to the two trips I mentioned in my preamble) I will be returning to the Barbican art gallery with my art history class and going to see the new play Blood Brothers. I will let you all know how everything goes.

And lastly, I have the following unfinished assignments due by term?s end:

Academics
2000-Word Essay on Sir Christopher Wren
Rewrite of Two Theater Critiques for Submission
2500-Word Essay on a Design Movement
Involved Companion Timeline for Above Paper
Annotation and Clarification of my Visual Diary

Design
Updating Royal Mail Postal Service Campaign
Completion of my Traveling Companion: Landing Gear
Edgy Redesign of British Magazine English Gardens
Fourth Unknown Project (from Conception to Completion)

If I?m not posting things in the near future, it is because I?m trapped under a rather heavy computer and/or laser printer. Call for help.

Take care everyone,

Lamma

PS There is a new picture gallery to accompany this post; do check it out.

At long last, here it is in all of its glory: my rebuttal to Zoe?s ape caricature of me (view the much talked about and highly acclaimed article for a little context). While I was not looking at my sister when I drew this, I feel that the likeness is uncanny and that the drawing has an inspired and energetic feel, not to mention a quiet genius. I would write more, but I think that this drawing speaks for itself. Zoe, the ball is in your court, or should I say, pen?
On another note, I have reached my 100th friend on the face book—I have the reasonable goal of achieving 1000 by this time next month. Zach Norman of the WU (Wash U) clan, if you don?t respond to my friend request soon, the consequences will be swift and devastating.

So you’re probably wondering, “what on God’s green earth is that disturbing picture doing at the mast of my web site?” Allow me to explain. I had a small revelation last night while I was viewing my newly installed web statistics package; my invasive new system that records peoples? web surfing habits, browsers, operating systems and many other deeply secret things that I cannot share with you. I can however let you know that 63% of my audience thought that Kerry projected a stronger image than Bush at the last debate and 28% of you prefer boxers to briefs. Anyway, where was I? Ah yes, the ungodly fusion of a Golden Retriever and the North Star staff member, Kyle Iverson.Well, as I said, I had a statistical revelation last night. I was pouring through my newly collected intelligence and I came to a section titled Failure Report. Beneath the header is a top ten list of failed file requests organized by popularity. The top entry read,

File: nstar/images/kyle+as+madison.jpg, Requests: 80

What this means, is that in the last five days (how long I’ve been collecting information) this picture file has been requested 80 times. It is a failed request, because my pictures are no longer organized in pages and individual files. So, if I changed my site over a month ago, how can people still be requesting these files (because you can?’ click anywhere on my site to get to them)? The answer, eerily, is that tens, if not hundreds, of people (probably all campers) have bookmarked this picture. I am putting it up for one reason and one reason only. I want anybody who bookmarked this picture as a favorite to come forward and take responsibility. I know you’re out there!

Also, before I sign off, I just wanted everyone to know that I have created an HTML-only version of the picture gallery for anyone who was having problems with the current Harry Potter picture experience. Hopefully this will work better.

I should have a more interesting and relevant-to-Europe post soon. Leeds Castle and Cantebury (of Cantebury Tales) was excellent. Pictures for that should be up soon too.

Keeping my eye on all of you,

Samma Lamma

And so I said, “that’s a lovely airplane you have there, but you should see my fluggesellschaft!” Oh, those Germans! Fluggesellschaft is actually just a fancy German way of saying airplane, and I mention it because I just returned from the Rhineland and boy are my arms tired!

So, I flew in late Thrursday night with Gill after her last class. We left from Stansted airport and arrived at Berlin?s Shöenfeld airport shortly thereafter; the flight is just over an hour. After snatching a few Euros from our dear old friend, the ATM (DAS TELLER! In German. Just kidding) we hopped into a cab to our wonderful hostel where the other seven members (the ID kids) were waiting. The neighborhood was a “bit dodgy” as my design professor would say and we had to traverse a huge dark courtyard and stairwell to get into BaxPax—the premiere youth hostel franchise of Europe.

So, after slowly wading through the passed out drug dealers and prostitutes strewn about the stairwell, we were greeted by the BaxPax reception/lounge, which was spectacular. At one end of the room, you have your twenty-four hour concierge/bar/DJ desk, which plays music and serves alcohol at all hours of the day. At the opposite end you have couches, a pool table with an ambiguous stain in the middle of it and several TVs playing a rich tapestry of South Park, Beavis and Butthead (oh, that takes me back!), The Simpsons and CNN World. This area, at all times of day and night, is populated vastly by college-aged young adults as well as slightly older and shadier people who speak English with perfect diction and implacable accents. The walls of this room are all painted with a huge mural of Berlin landmarks in shades of peach that match the tungsten lighting.

After checking in and picking up our sheets we made our way to the twelve-person suite that we had booked in advance. The room was clean, organized and had six bunk beds. Unfortunately for the latecomers, Gill and myself, we had to sleep in the last two available beds (one of which was the remaining half of a stranger’s bunk). And who graciously took the bunk which later turned out to be shared with a middle-aged married (or the rough equivalent to whatever they do in his country) dude? This guy [I'm pointing both thumbs at my chest]! But it turned out to be ok; we did not see much of each other. After some lovely late night Indian food around the corner from our lodgings, we hit the hay—9AM wakeup call tomorrow!

The next day (FRI) was packed with many wonderful things. We began our day with a quick stop at a German café, which couldn’t hold a candle to the British or French cafés I have frequented. We ordered our food and I, in a vain attempt to order a sandwich, apparently requested a backyard (as Billy Crystal put it in Forget Paris). So the whole group had to eat their takeout food while I sat at a table and ate my morning salad. Needless to say, I was on carb-patrol until we got to our first stop, The Bauhaus Archive.

It was very cool seeing all sorts of original work from the megastars that we learned about in art history: Paul Klee, Wassily “the weasel” Kandinsky, Mies van der Rohe, Walter Gropius, Laszo Moholy-Nagy, et al. I even got a picture of the “Chicago Bauhaus” sign before being berated by a vertically-challenged, seventy year-old German woman that had already coached me on what I could and couldn’t do with my devil camera.

Ha! Take that you evil hag! We left with just enough time to get some famous German bratwurst before going on our walking Berlin tour—which was awesome!

We walked several miles through Berlin learning about her history through a very cool tour guide who was a British student living in Germany. The whole group was about thirty people and everyone was riveted on the guide the entire time—he was very funny and knowledgeable. We saw everything from the Berlin wall to the in-progress Jewish holocaust memorial (in an unfortunate twist of events our guide said that the company contracted to provide the anti-graffiti coating was the original manufacturer of Zyklon B, but that they were the only company who could do this sort of thing so they kept the contract). We saw the Reichstag (Germany’s parliament) and the library (Humbolt University) where Einstein worked until he figured he?d better get his little buns over to America. As I said, the tour was wonderful and at the end our guide even offered us a discount on his nightlife tour of Berlin clubs (which I joked to the women, would probably end up at his apartment). We had a lovely German dinner (which I left briefly in the middle of to run down the road and take pictures of the old Jewish synagogue, on Erev Yom Kipur no less, which was close by).

All in all it was a great day. The walking was a little strenusuous but nothing to compare with my guilt stricken fast-a-thon the next day (SAT).

Once again we woke up at 9AM, and once again I was the last one to actually “get out of bed.” After sitting with the group and having my un-breakfast we all went to a shopping district that we had skipped through the previous day. But on this day it was food market—lucky me! Since I never made a formal announcement to the group about my intent to fast, I was approached my members of the group individually with large pieces of food in their hands telling me that I had to get “one of these.” The items varied between gourmet cheese, fresh fruit and pieces of pie that would choke a donkey. Oh, and let?s not forget the sample booths! It’s a funny thing, these samples. When food is free it doesn’t really matter how many calories are in it or what important Jewish holiday may or may not be on the current day. It was hard for me to get my head around the fact that I couldn’t eat samples—I can still smell them.

Since I had eaten pretty late the night before, I figured I could make up for it by waiting till my 11PM flight touched down at London to have my little break-fast. Even though I didn?t eat on Saturday, I did manage to shop a little with the group. I bought a wooden postcard to mail to my family and I even mused about buying a kitsch metal coat rack that had silver antlers coming out (I didn’t know they could do that!) to accept your jacket. We ended the day at the Sony entertainment center that was like a shopping square with movie, IMAX, etc. We watched a movie about Hitler’s last hours in his bunker told through the eyes of a secretary that stayed with him almost till the end. Everyone seemed pretty nuts in the movie and it seemed like a generally unhappy place to be at the end of the war. We left several minutes early to catch our flight and everything after that went incredibly smoothly. I had finished by book on the flight over, so I decided to buy The Da Vinci Code, one of the only books in English I could find, at the airport bookstore. Needless to say I finished it in a couple of days—I highly recommend it, it is so choice.

So, all in all, it was an excellent trip and I would recommend anyone in the area to stop by. Before this post gets even more out of hand, I’ll just quickly fill you in on my British happening these last few days. I?ve seen Much Ado About Nothing and Bombshells with my theater class and I visited The Tower of London and Westminster Abbey with my architecture class (Da Vinci Code brethren: I found Sir Isaac Newton’s tomb, and it was glorious!). I?m still working my way through all of the Pret à Manger sandwiches (I would live at the place if they’d just let me) and I’m going to Leeds castle tomorrow (FRI 10/1)! I have more to write but this is getting way too long. I’ll try to decrease the dead-time between posts, I promise!

Love,

Frau Becker

Well, it’s been just over a fortnight since my last post and I’m just beginning to realize what it means to be a true Londoner. So what’s new, you say? Well they opened a new Tesco down the street from us (that’d be Marylebone High St). For those of you that don’t know, Tesco is like a mini Walmart/Target/K-Mart that specializes in groceries at bargain-basement prices. In other words Romy & Michelle would look at the sandwich I bought today and say, “you paid a whole pound for that?” Anyway, you get the gist. It will become the only place open after 5PM on a Sunday—so that’s a good thing. Now onto more important matters.

I saw the loveliest play last week! For all of you French playwright buffs—those that put the ‘u’ in Tartuffe (mom: you can run, but you can’t hide), I saw Marivaux’s La Fausse Suivante for my London theater class. The plays are always on Tuesday nights and this was the first one I was assigned to see. My theatrical critique for The False Servant (my theatrical critiques are always due on the Wednesday following the Tuesday night showing—rough!) was hammed up and flamboyant just as my theater teacher encouraged us to make them. I have selected some passages to grace you with:

The dialogue is an excellent translation of La Fausse Suivante by Mr. Martin Crimp and the small contemporary touches make an already lucid interpretation even more accessible. The dialogue is subtle yet saucy, just like the Brits like it (as they proved so tonight with constant roars of applause).

I also had a word or two concerning the female lead who plays a man for the vast majority of the play:

She looked like a woman, spoke like a woman and moved and gesticulated in way that completely countered the logic of the play; her constant couch shenanigans with the countess screamed of awkwardness. I’ve seen more convincing drag queens on the New York City subway, so I know that the effect is possible.

Judging by the response, I may begin sharing more of my theater critiques as I write them; I’ve already submitted my formal review to the London Times, Arts & Leisure—I might be going to Broad . . . Way! My next play, which is tomorrow night, will be Much Ado About Nothing. It will be acted only by women and I will watch it outside at the Globe Theater (one of their last performances) in the standing-only groundling section. In preparation for this historical role (being a groundling), I have not bathed in four-score and have vandalized several of my permanent teeth. You would all be so proud!

My design classes are all going well and I can’t wait to go to Berlin (this weekend 9/23—9/25) with all of the designers for Oktoberfest. It has been brought to my attention that I will be in Germany during Yom Kippur, which is pretty much the worst thing that I’ve ever done as a Jew. HOWEVER, I am going to do everything I can to make up for this shanda(sp?)! I’m definitely fasting on Saturday and I will try to procure some “pocket prayers” before I takeoff from Stanstead (for reference, Heathrow is to Stanstead as O’hare is to Midway). This way I can impress all of the skinheads I meet with my Jewish aptitude!

And speaking of Jewish aptitude, I was able to find a synagogue for Rosh Hashanah several blocks from our humble abode. It’s called the West London Synagogue and it’s just lovely. I spent half of my time in the kid’s service (ummm . . . I’m . . . so . . . embarrassed?) and the other half in the main service. Everything went well, security was tight and I even got a chance to see a Harry Potter yarmulke.

In my architecture class I visited The British Museum and I will visit The Tower of London tomorrow where, rumor has it, the crown jewels are stored. Let’s just say I might have pictures of my crown jewels on the web site next week! Anyway, I have to run now. Thank you everyone for posting so generously. Keep up the good work; that?s what I pay you for! Ta-ta!

Love,

Samma Lamma